Baking Lessons
by Wolfyfox
Summary: Turbo knows he can't bake. Vanellope knows this as well. Turbo even knows Vanellope knows he can't bake, but he sure is going to play it off like he can. Warning: There's no plot to this. Just some cuteness.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: This is set in an AU where I guess Turbo is redeemed(?). This chapter doesn't have any actual baking in it, but the next chapter is nearly done and I'll be safe and say it'll be up by the end of the week(next Saturday or Sunday). This is just an attempt at some seeing what would happen if these two had to bake together._

Vanellope crept down the hallway, slowly putting one shiny black-clad foot in front of the other. She stretched one foot as far in front of her as she could while still keeping her balance, her arms held up so her hands were balled up just below her chest, her opposite foot's toes barely touching the ground. The candy-haired racer snickered as she came upon a door. Stopping, she leaned the right side of her head against the door, her ear pressed up against it. Grinning when she didn't hear the tell-tale signs of someone getting ready for the day, she took a step back and a deep breath before glitching through to the other side of the door.

The room was rather small, but looked bigger due to the scant amount of items in it. The room's only furnishings were a wardrobe, a nightstand, and a small bed on which a figure slept. Vanellope smirked and crept up to the edge of the bed on which the white and red clad racer was curled up on. His legs and arms were tucked close to his body as if seeking warmth.

Suddenly, the racer's breath hitched and one of his legs kicked out of its own accord. Vanellope heard him mumble something incoherent, though she thought she heard a swift 'turbotastic' at the end, before the racer turned over onto his back. His face scrunched up slightly as he stretched his legs out and brought his hands to his slightly extended belly, his right hand weakly clawing at his jumpsuit. He stilled again, his brows furrowing and lips tightening into a frown before his face took on a more peaceful expression.

_Not for long, _thought Vanellope as she grinned devilishly before making her way to the foot of the bed, jumping onto the wooden frame and gazing down at her not so innocent victim, her hands on her hips.

With a strange high pitched yelp and a shrill, nasally cry of, "Look out, Turbutt!" she threw herself off the bed frame and landed on Turbo's stomach.

The racer's large yellow eyes snapped open before he gave a comic yelp/scream and thrust his body backwards, sending Vanellope off balance from her seat on his rounded stomach as he slammed the back of his head against the headboard.

Frantically looking around, Turbo's bleary eyes slowly adjusted as the brightly coloured blobs around him started taking form. He heard laughter and looked down. Seated in between his splayed legs was a guffawing girl who was laying on her back and clutching her stomach as she laughed. A corner of his mouth turned down in a frown and he bared his yellowed teeth as he growled.

"Now that's what I call a wake-up call," Vanellope said, lifting a hand to wipe away a tear. Her eyes widened as she saw the racer prepare to pounce and she only managed to evade his grey toned hands by glitching a few inches away from his fingers.

Now standing in the middle of the room, Vanellope bent her knees and put her arms out on either side of her in preparation to flee. Grinning, she took in the sight of the enraged racer. He was now crouched on top of the bed, his arms in front of him with his elbows bent, his fingers curled as if ready to grasp something. The toothy grin on his face dispelled any thoughts of him being truly angry with the little ruler.

With a small growl, Turbo thrust himself off the bed, landing on his feet. Vanellope gave a small squeal and scrambled for the door, the other racer right on her heels. Just inches away from the door, she glitched through to the other side. She heard a thump and a grunt and the door shook as the person on the other side ran into it before the handle wriggled and turned. The door swung open to reveal a sorely angry Turbo, his nose and the lower part of his face tinged slightly pink from where it had struck the door.

After taking a moment to laugh loudly at the other racer, Vanellope dashed down the hallway, running in zigzags, giving Turbo a chance to catch up. The red and white clad racer may have been fast on the track, but he was horrible when it came to running. He became tired rather quickly and often had to stop and catch his breath.

"Come here ya' little cavity!" came a voice from behind her. "I'll teach you how to wake thomeone up!" His lisp was coming out, Vanellope noted. It was a sure sign he was at least a little mad.

Turning her head to look behind her, Vanellope's breath hitched in a feeling of exhilarating fear at his proximity. She giggled and gave a small hop, but her feet somehow tripped over each other. The scream of confusion and alarm that came from her throat was cut off as her belly hit the smooth ground.

She pressed the palms of her hands against the ground in an attempt to push herself up. A strong hand wrapped around her ankle and dragged her backwards, her jacket and under shirt being pushed into a bunch at her chest and her now bare belly sliding across the cold fruit candy tile. An exited half laugh half scream escaped her as she twisted in the older racer's grasp. She managed to turn over unto her back and yank her jacket and undershirt back to their proper place. She began to kick her captive leg in an attempt to free it, but her adversary was now straddling her, pinning her legs under his weight and grabbing her wrists. She looked up and saw him grinning, flashing his large yellow teeth at her in a smug grin.

"Ha, ha," he said with a grin, his face now very close to hers. "I win. I _always _win."

Vanellope frowned and rolled her eyes good-naturedly at his last comment.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Now let me up Tubbo! Great mother of monkey milk, what have you been eating?" Vanellope grunted as Turbo shifted his weight slightly.

Turbo gave a sarcastic laugh and scoffed, "Let me _not _mention the fact that we are in a world _literally _made out of fatty sweets. It's not my fault that I'm not programmed to not put on fat like you sugar-coated demons. But that's beside the point, I'm not-" He cut off as the solid body below him suddenly dematerialized. A weight slammed into his back and he fell forward so that he was lying flat on his stomach. He grunted and twisted his head to look behind him. Vanellope was standing on his back, the treads on her shoes digging into his spine. She crossed her arms and grinned smugly, tilting her head so that her chin was pushed out more in a self-satisfied gesture.

She leaned down and said, "_Now _who's the winner?" Her eyes were slightly lidded as she gazed down at his scowling and quickly reddening face. He suddenly jerked his body up and to the side and Vanellope quickly lost her balance and fell onto her back beside the older racer. He pulled himself to his feet, adjusted his sleeves and smiled as Vanellope stood up.

"So, kid, what was with the rude awakening?" the racer asked, narcissistically straightening his jump suit. His eyes were averted from the child in front of him.

"I want to bake cookies today," the little president said.

"Soooooo...? Go right ahead. No one's stopping you, you know," Turbo said with a dismissive flourish of his hand.

"Well, I'm not going to do it by myself, a-doi!" Vanellope raised an eyebrow.

Turbo's large yellow eyes narrowed and he snapped his heels together and put his slightly curled fists on his hips as he stared down at the only slightly shorter girl.

Frowning, Turbo hesitantly asked, "Please don't tell me...you're thinking what I think you're thinking?"

"Oh ho ho," Vanellope laughed and wriggled her finger at the other racer, "But I am!" She giggled at Turbo's disgruntled face. "You, mister grumpy pants himself, are going to bake cookies with me." She gave a self-satisfied grin.

Turbo blinked slowly. "Yeah, that's going to happen," he said, flourishing his hand in front of his face and giving a short, demented giggle. Realizing what he had just done, the smile on his face disappeared and he coughed into his hand, averting his eyes.

Ignoring the other racer's actions, Vanellope smiled mischievously, sighed dramatically and said, "Oh, well, if you can't do it then-"

Eyes widening, Turbo's arms broke away from their crossed position on his chest as he whirled on the seemingly nonchalant president. Vanellope's knowing expression didn't leave her face even as the older racer came only inches away from her.

"Can't?" he said with a short laugh that held no humour in it. "Who said anything about _can't_?" he went on as Vanellope's smirk grew. "I'll have you know, I am a wonderful baker. I'm the greatest baker ever!" As he finished, he crossed his arms over his chest and put his heels together. "Hmmpf." He swiftly nodded his head once.

"Prove it," Vanellope taunted, poking at his chest with her index finger.

The hesitance in Turbo's expression was so brief, one would think it was never there in the first place. Reaching up to nervously adjust his helmet, the racers grey hands were met with hair. For the first time that morning he realized he wasn't wearing his iconic helmet. Suddenly feeling naked and vulnerable, Turbo cleared his throat and subconsciously took a step back.

"Well, I'll just go get properly dressed and be right down," he said, the tone in his voice accepting the challenge before him.

He whipped around and headed back to the room he had come from, his walk only speaking of over confidence until he was sure Vanellope couldn't see him anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: Soooooo, here's Chapter 2...um...all I can say is(to quote Felix) "It's not _funny _enough!" I wish I could have made this funnier, but I got caught up in Vanellope's and Turbo's movement for some reason...oh, well...I did my best_

Shutting the door behind him, Turbo then leaned his back against it, bringing his hands up to his head.

What had he done? He couldn't bake. He didn't know the first thing about baking. Back when he was King Candy, he had always had Sour Bill do all the cooking. Before the whole _Road Blasters _incident, the only things he would eat would be take out and, if he was lucky, one of the twins would cook something on occasion. Those incidents were rare and in between, but he had to admit, they were good cooks when the mood hit them.

He, on the other hand, was a horrid cook. On several occasions, he had nearly burned down the house he and twins had shared. His natural impatience and need for everything to be quick was one of his greatest weaknesses. He would always turn the heating up to its highest setting to get the dish to cook faster or he would get distracted because cooking was so mind-numbingly _boring _and then everything would burn.

The racer groaned and rubbed his hands down his face in sudden exhaustion. He kept his hands on his lowered face for several seconds before peeking out between his fingers, looking for his helmet. He spotted it laying on the floor next to the nightstand. It must have fallen off when he'd jumped off the bed.

Picking it up, he rubbed a sleeve over the smooth surface, clearing away nonexistent dirt or smudging. Seeing himself in the shiny surface of the headgear, he lifted the helmet up, held it at arms length, and smiled at his reflection for a moment with his signature wide grin. After a few seconds, Turbo shoved the helmet onto his head, adjusting it so that it was just right on his head. He could not stand it when his helmet was crooked.

Sighing, the racer opened the door and made his way down to the kitchen where he was sure a little sugar coated demon awaited him.

Vanellope hummed a self-assured tune as she placed all the ingredients she knew they would need onto the counter. A bowl, butter, sugar, eggs, and flour among other things were all tossed onto the counter. Turbo walked in when she was dragging over two stools for her and the older racer to sit in.

Vanellope smiled and patted one of the stools, almost like she was taunting him. Turbo, in response, turned his nose up and marched purposefully toward the stool and sat down. Vanellope hopped up onto the stool next to him, standing on it and leaning so that her hands gripped the edge of the counter. She grabbed a medium sized shiny red bowl and dragged it towards them. She then looked at Turbo with a smug, expectant expression. She waved her hand over the ingredients placed out in front of her.

"Uh..." Turbo raised his hand, twitching his fingers decisively. His eyes darted about the finger tips grasped an egg. _Eggs, eggs go in cookies...of course. _As he was attempting to crack it, a small peach coloured hand wrapped around his.

"Butter and sugar first, a-doi," Vanellope said. She let go of Turbo's wrist and brought her hand up to her chin. "You know, it's almost as if...you didn't know what to do."

"Psh-Of course I knew that," Turbo said a bit too quickly. "I was...testing you, of course, small fry."

"Oh, yeah, uh-huh," Vanellope said. She nodded before picking up the appropriate amounts of butter and sugar and putting them in the bowl along with a large wooden spoon. She then handed the bowl to a mildly nonplussed Turbo who held the wooden spoon like he'd never seen one before. "Now, you mix those while I mix the flour and baking powder."

The older racer sat there for a moment, staring at the contents of the bowl before putting the wooden spoon in and swirling it around. He was met with great resistance and some sugar fell out of the bowl. Sighing softly in frustration, Turbo took a firmer grip on the utensil and tried to mix the hard butter with the dustiness of the sugar. He sighed again when the spoon got caught in the butter. _This is impossible, these two things are never meant to mix! _

Growling, he gripped the rim of the bowl in one hand and then tried squashing the butter into the sugar with the flat part of his spoon. This proved to work a lot better. Grinning in triumph, he aggressively mixed the rest of the butter into the sugar.

Looking over at Vanellope to see how far she had progressed, he discovered she was done mixing her ingredients and had already pre-heated the oven. He stared down at his bowl of mush. Turbo's expression flattened into annoyance and his whole body seemed to deflate a bit. He placed the bowl and spoon onto the counter as Vanellope brought over her larger bowl which contained flour, baking powder, and salt.

"Now we can put in the eggs," she stated.

"Right." Turbo picked up the egg he had held previously. Baring his teeth, he tried cracking it on the side of the counter, but he ended up with egg gunk all over his fingers. Growling, he picked up another egg and tried again with the same result. He snarled, clenching his fist before reaching for another egg. This was a battle he would not lose.

Vanellope, who had up until now been observing the scene playing out before her, stopped him by grabbing his wrist for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. "You have to be gentle."

The older racer stared at the little president and growled, "These eggs are defective. We need new ones."

Vanellope laughed and took the egg that was currently grasped in Turbo's grey fingers. She then gently tapped it against the edge of the counter until it's outer shell was partially cracked then broke it into two halves over the smaller bowl. She then turned and smirked at the red and white clad racer next to her.

"Hmf, I could do that," he said. He picked up another egg and slowly brought it towards him before hovering it over the counter's edge. He stuck his tongue out the corner of his mouth and tried to gently crack open the shell as he'd seen Vanellope do. The shell cracked a little too much and some egg yolk spilled out before he quickly brought the egg up and over the bowl, ripping the egg-shell in two, the egg and some small shards of egg-shell falling into the bowl.

"Haha, Turbo-tastic!" he cried in triumph, standing up on his stool and nearly toppling over as it wobbled. Spotting Vanellope staring at him, he quickly sat down. "I mean...ha, piece of pie." He waved a hand in front of him. Feeling egg-yolk sticking to the tips of his fingers, he made a disgusted noise and his fingers fluttered for a moment as his yellow eyes darted around, looking for something to clean his hand with. Vanellope handed him a dish towel and he immediately snatched it up and wiped any trace of egg from his hands.

"Yeah, good job, egg-boy," Vanellope said, taking the small bowl and mixing its contents together before pouring it into the larger bowl and doing the same thing until the ingredients made a thick cookie dough.

After tossing some flour onto the counter, Vanellope dumped the contents of the large bowl onto it. She then grabbed a long, cylinder like object that looked like it was made of wood and handed to the other racer.

Turbo grasped the handles on either end of the object and turned it over in his hands.

"There you go, Turbutt, roll that out," Vanellope instructed. "I'll go get a pan." Vanellope jumped off of her stool and skip-hopped across the kitchen, leaving Turbo to his new challenge.

Turbo hummed, looking from the object in his hands to the pile of cookie dough in front of him. _Seems straight forward enough..._ he thought. He tentatively laid the wooden object on top of the pile of dough, his hands gripping either end. He twisted the handles as if they were those of a motorcycle and thrust forward, flattening half of the pile of dough. _Success. _

Just as he finished his task, Vanellope came over with a pan and laid the slab of metal onto the counter beside the flattened dough before hopping onto her stool. She was using the front of her shirt as a makeshift basket. Inside she had gathered a few cookie cutters. She dumped the contents of her "shirt basket" onto the counter, reaching out to arrange them so that they were all sitting the same way. The shapes she had picked out were of a heart, a star, a generic 'gingerbread man' figure, and a crouching bunny.

Hovering his hand beside his face and twitching his fingers in decision, Turbo's eyes darted to each cookie cutter before reaching out and plucking the one shaped like a bunny out of the pile and bringing it to his face. A small smile played on his lips. A rabbit was fast like him. He always admired the little creatures. They could out race a majority of other animals even though they were very small.

The smile on his face fell when he saw Vanellope out the corner of his eye and he brought the cookie cutter away from his face and quickly tossed it over his shoulder, cringing internally when he heard the metal clang when it hit something.

He gave a short, slightly demented, King Candy-esque laugh and said, "That was the dumbest cookie cutter I've ever had the misfortune to lay my lovely yellow eyes on." He then quickly skimmed over the other cookie cutters before picking up the star one and holding it out in front of him. "Now, _this _is a cookie cutter. A star, because I'm a star," he laughed at his own cleverness.

Vanellope rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say prissy-pants," she remarked before grabbing the heart-shaped cookie cutter and pressing it into the rolled dough. Turbo watched the child's movements for a moment before coping her actions. Vanellope watched Turbo out the corner of her hazel eyes and smiled to herself.

After they had cut out as many cookies as they could get from that batch of dough, Vanellope placed them carefully on the pan and slid the pan in the already pre-heated oven.

"And now, we wait," she said, dusting off her hands and walking past Turbo who then kneeled down and stared into the oven through the little window. He wrapped his hands around the long black bar above him and pressed his face to the glass.

Vanellope stopped cleaning up for a moment to glance behind her and smirk. Turbo, his back towards her, was crouched down in front of the oven, watching intently for any minute changes in the dough within. She suppressed a laugh, covering her mouth with her right hand. After dumping the bowl and spoon into the sink, she turned on one foot towards the impatient racer.

"Hey, Tur-butt, didn't anyone ever tell ya' watched dough never bakes," she remarked and walked up beside him. Turbo looked up at her and frowned.

"This is taking forever," he complained, letting an irritated breath. He stood up, still grasping the oven handle and looked at the dials. "Should I turn the heat up?" he asked and stretched out a grey hand towards the knob only to retract it when a stinging pain hit the back of his hand. Vanellope now stood on top of the counter, next to the stove, a disapproving look on her face. She withdrew her hand from its striking position.

"Ouch," the older racer whined in indignation and rubbed the pink spot on his hand where he'd been struck.

"Are you _trying _to mess everything up?" Vanellope asked. "You're gonna have to wait."

"Ugggh," Turbo groaned, banging his helmeted head against the counter top. Vanellope laughed and patted Turbo's helmet.

* * *

_Originally I was going to have them ice the cookies as well..but this was getting kinda long and I like to have the chapters be about the same length. _


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